Mr Brightside
by Keitorin Asthore
Summary: With nothing to keep him entertained, Ren finds himself curiously enamored with the former iron maiden. She's opened up his eager eyes, because he's Mr. Brightside. Inspired by the Killers song. Reanne. Oneshot. COMPLETE.


Disclaimer: Shaman King belongs to Hiroyuki Takei, not me. Neither does the song "Mr. Brightside;" it belongs to the Killers.

-

-

-

I'm coming out of my cage

And I've been doing just fine

Gotta gotta be down

Because I want it all

"You're not serious."

"Of course I am," his sister said serenely. "I bought the tickets last month. You said it would be just fine."

He folded his arms. "I seem to vaguely recall you blabbering something about tickets while I was trying to work out," he said.

Jun tossed her long, silky hair over her shoulder. "You're always working out," she said. "Now go get ready. I'm not going to be late."

He sighed and rubbed his temples. "So what atrocity are you dragging me to?" he asked. "Another one of those musicals you so dearly love? Dear God, if I have to sit through Phantom of the Opera one more time…"

"I would think you'd like Phantom of the Opera, Lian," Jun smirked. "You and the phantom have a great deal in common. The brooding, the grudges…"

"And the fixation on bubble-headed sopranos? No, thank you, I'll pass."

Jun rolled her eyes. "In any case, it's not a musical," she said. "It's _Equus_, by Peter Schaeffer."

Ren quirked an eyebrow. "The horse sex play?" he asked warily.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," Jun said. "All people ever think of that play is sex with horses. There's so much more to it. So much depth. Trust me, you'll love it."

"I almost prefer the bubble-headed soprano," he said.

Jun tapped him on the forehead. "The limo will be here in an hour," she said. "I expect you to be ready."

"Fine," he sighed, stalking down the hall of the penthouse apartment to his bedroom.

He had been living in Beijing with his sister for six months now. Now that everyone was regaining some semblances to normal lives, Jun had decided that now would be the perfect time to embark on a modeling career. And Ren, desperate to live somewhere other than the isolated Tao complex, agreed to accompany her to attend school in the city.

He slammed his bedroom door shut and flicked on the lights. His room, with its navy walls and white furniture, seemed almost too painfully neat and normal. He scolded and flicked the power switch on his computer.

He wished there was somewhere besides Beijing he could go, someone who wasn't so caught up in their own lives that they couldn't pay attention to him. But Yoh was living the charmed white-picket-fence life with his wife and baby. HoroHoro was blissfully lost in a sea of fuku leaves. Lyserg was training back home at Scotland Yard, Manta was drowning in research in the States, Ryu was tearing up the pavements on his motorbike, and he…

…he was taking undergrad classes and chaperoning his sister on photoshoots.

"Can I get even more ridiculous?" he mumbled to himself as he shuffled through the racks of designer clothing in his closet.

He knew he needed a college degree. Eventually he'd be the leader of the family, after all, the one to bring the Taos into the twenty-first century. He just didn't know what he wanted to do. He took accounting, business, computer science…nothing grabbed his attention.

Sometimes he thought about dropping out and focusing on his fighting form. But there wasn't any call for a shaman to fight for anything. Maybe he could dabble in martial arts…but what was the use of that, outside of working as a stuntman in Hollywood for overpriced summer blockbusters? No, there was no glory there.

He shuffled through the books stacked in order of height on his desk. There was an answer to this nagging feeling in the back of his mind, but he didn't want to acknowledge it.

He, Ren Tao was _bored._

Money was no object. He had the prestige to go anywhere he wanted. The world was his oyster. Yet nothing seemed to quell the awful feeling of restlessness that plagued him.

He flopped back on his pristinely made bed, reveling more than he should have about wrinkling the covers, and stared at the ceiling.

"Half an hour!" his sister called, her voice echoing through the penthouse.

"Don't boss me around," he yelled back, without bothering to move.

He was ready at six o' clock sharp, dressed in a suit that probably cost more than their rent. The limo ride was boring, the stroll through the lobby to their private box was boring, the brief rifling through the black-and-white playbill was boring.

"I'm so excited about this," Jun said, smoothing the skirt of the gown she had worn in her last runway show. "It's a touring company, you know. They did the production in Ireland and the critics just loved it. It has that girl, you know, that Irish child actress…"

He lounged across the velvet seat. "I don't watch movies," he said.

"Well, maybe you should," Jun suggested. "All you ever do is sit around the apartment and complain about how bored you are or work out. You need a hobby."

"You need to stop meddling," he retorted. She reached over and smoothed his hair out of his eyes; he jerked back. "I'm seventeen now, thank you very much. I don't need a mother."

"You need to get laid," she said.

"I need to _what_?"

"It's called a joke, Lian," she said dryly. "Honestly, though, you know Mother and Father are going to start nagging you to get married and give them a Tao heir."

"Fantastic," Ren sighed. "I'll just find myself a nice little girl who doesn't mind marrying into a sadistic family and breeding like a rabbit."

"You know we're not quite that bad," Jun said. She flipped through the program. "You should have stolen Anna away from Yoh. She'd make a good Tao."

"She's a better Asakura," he shrugged. "You heard Manta blab that whole story about how they met. She hasn't noticed anyone besides Yoh since she was ten years old. It would have been pointless."

"Well, you do like pointless challenges," Jun said. "Video games. You should take up video games."

"I would rather live in Usui's fuku field," Ren snorted.

The sound system suddenly boomed across the wide expanse of the theater and the audience fell silent. "Ladies and gentlemen, we regret to inform you that Amelia Fielding will not be performing tonight."

"Oh," Jun said, disappointed.

"The Irish actress, I presume?"

"I've heard she's excellent in the role," Jun said, frowning.

"Instead, the role of Jill Mason will be played by Jeanne d'Fer."

Ren frowned. "Does that name sound familiar to you?" he said. "I feel like I've heard it before."

Jun elbowed him in the ribs. "Shut up. It's starting."

Ren continued to lounge in his plush seat as the curtain rose. He amused himself by analyzing the acting. The actor playing the psychologist was decent, but he could probably be a little more forceful. He was a bit more impressed with the unknown playing the role of Alan Strang, a fire-eyed Irish boy that probably was around his own age.

The play was more interesting than he had thought it would be. It was unconventional, true- the metaphor-rich dialogue, the minimalist set, the convention of having the all the actors sit on the stage.

He squinted at the two neat rows of actors waiting to become characters. They watched the play with a sort of interest, remaining in character even though they weren't called up. He couldn't see them clearly as their faces were obscured in the shadows. It was impossible to see which one of the actors could be Jeanne d'Fer, but the familiarity of the name was nearly driving him wild.

He watched the play with detached interest, caught between the story and his personal analysis. But then it happened. Alan was explaining how he got the job at the stables when _she _walked onstage.

She got up gracefully from her seat and strolled up to the actor playing Alan. He leaned forward in his seat, peering over the edge of the stage. Her costume was simple- a dark green sweater, caramel-colored riding pants, and knee-high brown boots. A narrow green ribbon bound her long, waving hair at the nape of her neck.

"I've seen you," she said to Alan, smiling, her voice sweet. She sounded familiar too. He stared at her as the scene progressed, trying to place her.

The play moved from the first time Alan met Jill to the first time she taught him to groom a horse. She mimed the horse easily, creating the horse in the audience's mind. "This is Nugget. He's my favorite," she explained. "He's as gentle as a baby, but awfully fast when he means to be. Aren't you, boy?"

Ren sat back in his seat as the girl caught the stage lights. Her pale hair that he had originally mistaken for a light blonde was actually silver in color. And he knew at once who she was.

Jeanne d'Fer the actress had been, in a previous life, Iron Maiden Jeanne.

She mimed brushing the horse's proud neck and broad back, demonstrating in the empty space to the boy standing next to her. "Here, you try," she said. She guided his hand, her soft white skin touching his. "Nice and easy. Never rush."

Her melodious voice wrapped around him. He watched her with baited breath, drinking in the scene.

"You've got a knack for it," she said, glancing at him coyly over her shoulder. "I can tell. It's going to be nice working with you."

She walked back to her seat, and Ren's stomach dropped. Now he wished he was more familiar with the play, for the sole purpose of knowing when Jill Mason would be back onstage.

He was lost now, lost entirely in the story, caught up in the philosophical debate of the play and the light glinting off Jeanne's silver hair. They reached the intermission before Jill came back onstage, and he sat through the intermission and his older sister's chatter with impatience.

When the show finally did begin the next act, he still had to wait for her to reappear. He tapped his foot with impatience, wishing he could simply fast-forward to her next appearance.

She finally walked back onstage, glowing in a sundress and sandals that any teenage girl might wear. He watched her with his mouth agape as she seduced Alan in her guileless innocence. She slipped the straps of her dress down her shoulders.

"You can," she said, as he hesitated to touch her. "You're doing wonderfully."

"I can't he said."

_I could_, said Ren's mind, betraying him. He shoved the thought away.

"Don't think, just answer," she urged. "Just answer."

They kissed, then, Jeanne and the boy playing Alan. Something inside him burned, something…jealous.

He watched the rest of the play, half enthralled and half lost in his own tumbling thoughts. The play didn't end well- things like this never did. His sister rose to her feet at the final curtain, clapping loudly, her diamond bracelets jangling and sparkling. He remained seated, staring at the stage below.

She took her bow gracefully, just an understudy filling in for the evening, but the audience cheered for her heartily. He found himself clapping without noticing, clapping until his hands ached and stung.

The house lights came back on, harsh and blaring. "Wasn't that excellent?" Jun sighed. "Oh, I'm so glad we got to see it, even without Amelia Fielding."

"Her understudy was excellent," Ren mumbled. He got up, his legs aching after sitting still for so long. "I'll meet you by the limo, all right?"

"Don't be long," Jun said, breezing away.

He ambled down the red velvet stairs with his hands in his pockets, dodging past the men in tuxedoes and the women in evening gowns. None of them paid him much attention, not even when he ducked through a back door instead of the broad front steps.

It was late; taxis with brilliant headlights whizzed back and forth. A light cool rain drenched the narrow back staircase where he knew the cast would be exiting. He leaned against the wall in the shadow of the theater and waited.

The minor actors left first; he didn't pay any attention to them. The woman who played the mother ducked out of the theater- without her makeup, she looked much younger. Some time passed before anyone else exited, but he didn't mind. Even if Jun left without him, he was a big boy. He could get home on his own.

The actor who had played the psychologist left twenty minutes later, followed closely by Alan and a young girl with fiery red hair. _Amelia Fielding, I presume_, he thought. She wore a dark coat and ducked quickly into a waiting taxi, as if she was expecting to be attacked by paparazzi.

He kept waiting. And finally, at long last, he saw a small figure in a lavender coat leave the theater. She wore a black knitted beret, but it was impossible to camouflage the glow of her silvery hair.

"Jeanne d'Fer," he said, stepping out into the streetlight.

She paused on the curb, holding up her skirt in midstep, showing off her slim white legs and her glossy black shoes. If this posing was unintentional, then she was a born flirt. "Why, Ren Tao," she said, smiling, her voice curiously soft without the amplification of the theater's sound system. "Imagine meeting you here."

"I'm more surprised to see you, little iron maiden," he said. He stepped closer, realizing that the slender girl that had reached his nose when he saw her two years ago was now at his shoulder. "What brings you to a theater in Beijing?"

"Marco has reopened his car dealership in Dublin," she said. "And he put me in a girls' school there. I did a little play there, just for fun, and an agent noticed me." She ducked her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's a bit frivolous, really, to go from leading a religious army to playacting, but I honestly enjoy it."

"You're very talented," he said, and he meant it.

"Thank you, Ren Tao," she said.

He shifted from one foot to the other. "Would you like to go out for some coffee or something?" he said.

"Oh, no, thank you," she said. "This is the last night of our run, and we're flying to Tokyo early tomorrow. And Amelia's still ill- I'll need my rest if I'm going to keep playing Jill. It's a very tiring role. Emotionally, you know."

"Of course," he said. She smiled and turned away again, but he caught her lightly by the hand.

She looked up at him from under her long eyelashes, her curiously rosy eyes shining. "You know, Ren Tao, if you had been this forceful in the shaman fight, you might have won," she said, almost coy.

"Don't be daft," he said. He cleared his throat. "Jeanne, will you…will you come back to Beijing any time soon?"

"I'm not sure," she said. "Why do you ask?"

He bent his head and kissed her swiftly on the lips. She pulled back, her eyes sparkling under the rain and the streetlights. "I'd like you to write to me," he said.

"Perhaps I will," she said as she disentangled herself lightly. "I'll see how I feel about it, Ren Tao. If you're not so bold again."

She opened a black umbrella as she walked away from him, raising her white hand to hail a cab. He leaned against the street lamp, watching her go.

It started out with a kiss

How did it end up like this?

It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss

"That was an excellent way to spend an evening, don't you think?" Jun said as she slid into the limo.

"Yes, fine," Ren said as he lounged on the wide seat and loosened his tie.

"It's so late, though," she said, stretching her arms above her head and yawning. "I didn't realize that the designer for Filetta was going to be here too. We started chatting and thirty minutes later, she asks if I want to do a photoshoot for her spring line."

"And you said yes?" he asked dryly.

"Of course. I'm not an idiot," she said. The limo pulled away from the curb and into the dark street. "I'll have to go to Tokyo next week for it, though. Do you want to come?"

"Tokyo?" he repeated.

Jun pulled the clips from her long hair and shook it free. "Yes, Tokyo," she said.

"I'll come," he shrugged.

He look out onto the darkly shining streets as they drove away, a thousand thoughts milling through his head. Finally, his boredom had faded. He had found something to do.

And it was all because he had to have her.

And I just can't look - it's killing me

And taking control

Jealousy, turning saints into the sea

Turning through sick lullabies

Choking on your alibis

But it's just the price I pay

Destiny is calling me

Open up my eager eyes

˜Cause I'm Mr. Brightside.

-

-

-

**Author's Notes:**

This actually began when I wrote my Mankin oneshot "Hey, Soul Sister," because I started debating about what music the characters would like. I thought Ren would like the Killers...which led me to listen to Hot Fuss on repeat...which led me to write this. I also have never written anything with Ren and Jeanne, and thought I'd give it a shot with an AU spin. I may very well continue this, if anyone's interested. And I'm pretty sure I'm going to write a oneshot series about the musical choices of the Mankin gang.

A lot of the theater references came from personal experience. I did my first show when I was three...twenty years later, I have a BA in theater and thirty-four shows on my resume, including Equus. I played the role of Alan's mother, Dora Strang, in a college workshop performance. I know a lot of people think of it as "that horse sex play that Harry Potter was naked for," but it is seriously one of the most brilliant plays I've ever read or seen. Run, don't walk, to get your hands on a copy of the script. It's amazing, and it's still one of the most challenging roles I've ever undertaken.

Also, Amelia Fielding and the boy who plays Alan are from another fanfiction I have in progress...an Artemis Fowl one. Why? Because I didn't know what else to do, that's why...also, I am lazy. True story.

So what did you think? Questions, comments, complaints? Toasters?


End file.
